Separation Anxiety
by ILoveJorja
Summary: My entry into the CSI Forever Online "Fix GSR" Fan Fiction Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

Separation Anxiety

Drama/ Friendship. Rated T. Sara/ the rest of the team led by D.B. Russell. GSR.

Reviews are most welcome.

This is an entry into the CSI Forever Online FF Challenge "Fix GSR" for June-Sept 2014. If you are not a member of CSIFO, go join! And submit your entry soon. Links are on my Profile. Here are the Rules for this Challenge:

_**The story must resolve the present relationship between Grissom & Sara in a HAPPY WAY.**_****

**The story****:  
- **_**Needs GSR to be restored in a credible fashion  
- Needs to be strictly canon (what's aired since Forget Me Not)  
- Cannot be AU (dream sequences, time displacement, etc.)**_**  
**_**- Should include regular elements of a crime mystery that is solved in this piece  
-Think of it as a CSI episode.  
**_**  
****Characters****  
**_**- Grissom **__**cannot**__** physically appear in this story or exchange dialogue with anyone. He may appear in letter form (email, text, handwritten letter.) We have to assume Billy Petersen is not coming back.  
-Grissom may appear in past (3rd person) conversations and interactions ONLY.  
- Any regular character may be used (except Warrick or any character that has died.)  
- New characters may be used**_****

**Style****  
**_**- It may be written as a normal story  
- It may be written as a television screenplay (teleplay) if you really want a challenge!**_

Separation Anxiety. Chapter One

(Teaser Scene)

Greg Sanders cruised along in his black SUV along a main street in Las Vegas, frequently glancing and smiling at his passenger, Morgan Brody. Morgan pursed her lips and blushed, very aware of the attention from the driver, but doing her best to avoid looking back at him. It was early evening and traffic was light. The sidewalks were mostly empty but for some very boisterous revelers and tourists. The street had boutiques, gift shops, small restaurants and bars, and a bank on the corner. A young woman pushed a stroller to their left.

"What!" Morgan shouted, pretending to be annoyed.

Greg answered shyly, "I…uh…I had a nice time today."

Morgan softened. "I did too."

"Just the two of us."

Morgan smiled at him and nodded.

"So, um, did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Yeah…it was…"

Their attention was drawn to a commotion at the bank on their left, just ahead. A loud ringing alarm sounded and the doors burst open. A white guy with stringy blonde hair, sweat-stained T-shirt, in dirty jeans and white sneakers dashed out, immediately tripping over the stroller and knocking the baby's head to the sidewalk. The baby's mother screamed and flung herself to its side.

Greg hit the brakes and the SUV screeched to a stop, blocking traffic. The fleeing man crossed the street and ran away from them, dodging around pedestrians. As they took in the situation, Morgan made a decision.

Morgan (urgently): "Let me out! You follow him!" She grabbed at the door handle and jumped out.

Greg shouted: "Okay! Be careful!"

Morgan: "You too!" The car door slammed. As Morgan dashed around the front of the vehicle, Greg could hear her muffled yell, "Don't be a hero!"

Morgan knelt beside the young mother and quickly tried to assess the baby's condition. She felt around the skull and her fingers encountered blood. She pulled out her cell phone and hit #1 speed dial.

"Control Control," she said urgently, "this is CSI-7 Brody, I need medical assistance and backup my location."

A deliberately calm female voice answered. "Go ahead CSI Brody. What's your twenty?"

"I'm at the Citibank on…East Charleston Avenue…" Morgan looked around, "and 11th Street. There was a robbery in progress at the bank, and the suspect knocked over a baby carriage during his escape. The baby sustained a head injury. CSI Sanders is in pursuit of the suspect."

"Roger, Brody, paramedics ETA 2 minutes and police backup is just behind them."

Morgan tried to soothe the hysterical mother, and put an arm around her. From a kneeling position, she looked up at the anxious crowd. "Is anyone else hurt? Inside the bank?"

A bank employee in a suit coat and pale khakis ran an anxious hand through her hair and shook her head. "No, no, he…he was too nervous to even take any money. He just ran away!"

"Did he have a gun?"

"He said he did, but…" she shrugged.

(Cut To)

Greg didn't spare another glance at the small crowd on the sidewalk, instead gunning the engine and engaging his 4-way flashers. The fleeing robber was still visible in the distance, a distance Greg quickly closed. His quarry looked back and saw the pursuit, so he made an abrupt right turn, then another turn up an alley. There he tumbled over some trash cans, fought to stay on his feet and ran on, huffing and puffing and with sweat running down his face. At the next corner, a main road with heavy traffic, he looked behind and saw no one following. The robber jumped behind the wheel of a rusty blue Chevy Cavalier parked on his right. He dug into his pockets for the keys, but dropped them. As the bank robber leaned forward, and scrabbled for them under the seat, Greg's SUV sped by. He smirked.

(Cue music and roll opening credits)

To be continued…


	2. Separation Anxiety Chapter Two

Separation Anxiety

Chapter Two

(Street scene, sunset)

Police vehicles were parked behind and ahead of Greg's black SUV. Greg sat in his vehicle as police leaned in the windows. Other officers walked around and eyed passersby. Detective Crawford stood at the driver's side window and took notes on a folding note pad.

"So where did you last see the suspect?" Crawford asked.

"Again, I saw him run down South on 15th Street," explained Greg impatiently. "When I drove around the corner, I saw overturned trash cans and a debris trail leading away from the street down an alley so I followed that. I took the right fork and up Francis Avenue."

"Why didn't you go left, on Jessica Avenue?"

"Most people are right handed. It's human nature to turn right, and go with traffic."

Crawford looked puzzled but didn't comment. "So then what?"

"I got to the intersection of South Maryland Parkway and lost sight of the suspect."

Crawford sighed and shifted his weight on his feet. "Let's back up. Where were you when this started?"

"Morgan and I were driving on East Charleston. We saw a robbery in progress…hey, how is Morgan? Is she alright? What about the baby?" Greg anxiously interrupted his own narrative.

"Baby?" Crawford responded. "Morgan doesn't have a baby."

"I KNOW that." Greg retorted. Before he could continue, a police radio in the squad car to their left crackled, announcing that a suspect matching the description had been apprehended less than a mile away. CSI Sanders was requested to join them and make an ID.

"Do you mind?" Greg Sanders said sarcastically. "I'm needed elsewhere." He started the engine and pulled out.

"We're not done here!" the detective yelled after him.

(Cut to)

Locker Room, CSI Lab

As Nick changed his shoes, and Sara, seated, stared at her phone and sent a text, Greg walked around the lockers and edged toward them. Nick glanced up and straightened. Sara turned around. Nick started a slow clap.

"Hey, there's the man of the hour! How's it feel, champ?" Nick called out. Sara chuckled and grinned at him.

Greg ducked his head and shook it, clearly uncomfortable. Morgan arrived just behind him.

"And here's his sidekick, Nurse Jackie!" Morgan poked Nick in the shoulder and turned her back, sticking her head in her locker.

"I heard you two had an exciting afternoon," Sara said. "Catching bank robbers?"

"Only one robber, Sara. And he actually got away," Greg said sheepishly. "Patrol car picked him up after I lost him. Just walking along the street, la di da. Genius had robbed the bank for gas money, got scared and left without any cash, and so the getaway car ran out of gas! Putt putt…pshhhhh." The group laughed. "But even if he'd gotten away? The teller recognized him. He had an account at that branch."

"So he robbed his own bank? He really is a genius!" Nick chuckled.

"Gotta love it when the bad guys make it easy," Morgan added.

"Hey, what about the baby, Morgan?" Sara asked with concern.

D.B. walked in and listened in on the conversation.

"Superficial cut on his head. Tests came back negative. They're keeping him overnight just in case," Morgan responded. "His mother had to be sedated. She went bonkers."

"So nobody hurt too badly, the perp caught, case closed, all before you guys clocked in. All's well that ends well," D.B. commented. "Good work, you two. The detective has our guy in custody, so you two head over and make your statements and put this behind us. I just have one question. What were you two kids doing in that part of town?"

Greg and Morgan looked at each other, gaping, at a loss on how to respond. Morgan started to speak and then Greg interrupted, but sputtered to a halt.

Russell shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just be discreet, okay?" Morgan smirked. Greg winked at her. "So. The rest of us…"

Sara's phone chirped and she whipped it out of her pocket. She gazed at it, brow furrowed, looking upset, then gazed directly at her supervisor. He seemed to understand her expression.

"Nicky, assignments. Slow night. Finn's in the breakroom." He handed Stokes two slips of paper. The others left and D.B. held out his hand toward Sara. "Let's you and me head to my office." Placing his hand gently on her back, he guided her in that direction. Hodges delayed him with a question and Sara went on ahead. She sat before D.B.'s desk and quickly sent a text. The phone chirped again and she read the response.

Russell strode in and took a seat. Sara glanced up and then at her phone again.

"What's going on, Sara?"

Sara started to speak but seemed to choke up. She shook her head and dumbly handed him the phone. The nightshift supervisor looked at the newest message.

[Julia Holden]

CONDITION CRITICAL. PLEASE COME SOON.

"Who is…Julia Holden?" he asked. "And who are we talking about?"

(End Scene)

To be continued.


	3. Separation Anxiety Chapter Three

Separation Anxiety

Chapter Three

(Continuation in Supervisor's office)

"Julia Holden? She's um, a former flame of my husband's."

D.B. looked confused so Sara hurriedly continued.

"It's my mother-in-law, Betty Grissom. She's been in intensive care. Julia is her best friend…"

"That's okay, there's no time to lose. You can explain on the way…" D.B. stood and rooted around the desk for his keys.

"You're coming along?" Sara asked, surprised.

"I'm driving. Finn can handle the shift. You're upset and I'd like to…" When Sara shook her head, D.B. said firmly, "Let me help, Sara. I insist." He touched her sleeve.

"Well, okay," Sara agreed, still a little in shock. "I'll grab my bag and meet you at your truck."

"Good." Russell smiled and then strode down the hallway, yelling for Finn.

(Cut to interior pickup truck, night)

D.B. Russell navigated with ease through the streets of Las Vegas toward Desert Palm Hospital. Sara looked pale and worried and was clutching her phone with her knapsack between her feet.

D.B. glanced at her. "So, Betty is Gil's mother? Is he there?"

Sara's eyes hardened and her lips became a thin line. "I don't know. I've called and called, texted, left messages…but he hasn't responded."

Russell shook his head, with a hardened expression, but changed the subject. "And Betty? What's wrong with her?"

"It's called PSP. Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. It's a rare brain disorder," Sara said sadly. "No known cause. No treatment. It's palliative care at this point. It took forever to get a diagnosis, since the symptoms resemble both Parkinson's and Alzheimer's. She kept losing her balance, falling, was in and out of the hospital with fractures. Gradually she became more moody…and just…not herself? The worst, well, one of the worst symptoms, is that it affects her vision. There are lesions-in the area of the brain that controls eye movement. So her eyes dart around even if she wants to look at one spot. And her vision is blurred. That's a hardship, because Mrs. Grissom is deaf."

"Oh, no. That must be doubly difficult," Russell said sympathetically.

"It is." Sara took a breath. "Betty and I…well we haven't always gotten along. I don't think…I know she didn't approve of me as Gil's wife. She would have preferred Julia. They broke up before I came to Vegas." Sara shrugged. "But I made an effort, and we grew closer. We went to lunch regularly, I took her shopping, did what I could. For Gil's sake. And mine. She's a good woman. Strong, honest, intelligent, very active, up until this happened. I've tried to learn about _Gilbert_ more." She smiled a little. "I've been to see Betty at the hospital whenever I could. Betty is devoted to her son. They are very close."

"Gil's father not in the picture?"

"He died suddenly when Gil was nine. An only child. And he was always very advanced academically, so he was picked on…it was the two of them against the world."

Sara paused, as if the next was especially difficult. "I almost did not tell her about Gil and I…whatever you want to call it…drifting apart, because I couldn't bear the 'I told you so.' But I did, and she was very kind. No recriminations. She just grasped my hands tightly and stared hard at me. Then she shook her head and I could see the tears glittering…" Sara fought to keep her own tears at bay. "She pulled away so I could see her hands. '_I love my boy_,' Betty signed very slowly, as if to make sure I understood. '_And I know you love him too. But he is a hard man to love. I don't know whether it is being around dead people,_' she shivered and made a face, '_but then again you work with the dead too and you are so kind and loving. And easy to love_.'" Sara put her fist to her mouth and wept. Russell awkwardly patted her shoulder, steering with his left hand, and swallowing hard. "That kind of…tore something inside me…because it has tortured me all my life that I didn't feel worthy…of true love. That there was something wrong with me…damaged…bad. No matter how much I love a man, this man…it's not enough. I don't know what I did wrong so I don't know how to make it right." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her tears and blew her nose.

"I don't know Gil, but I do know you, honey, and I can tell you…you are lovable and deserve it…I love you like a daughter," D.B. said shakily. "And you are surrounded by people who love you." He swallowed and cleared his throat.

Sara just nodded, thanked him in a very small voice, and concentrated on pulling herself together.

"I just might have to have a talk with this elusive scientist of yours," he continued in a low voice.

They reached the hospital entrance and Russell drove to the closest open parking space to the Main Entrance. They got out and Russell went around to her side of the truck and grasped her by the shoulders. She pulled him into a quick hug and then pulled back and looked up at him.

"Ready?"

Sara nodded. Both CSIs hurried inside. Sara took the lead, clearly having been to Betty's bedside before. As the elevator doors opened, a tall striking brunette sprung to her feet and rushed toward Sara. They hugged a little stiffly, and then Julia pulled back and began to sign rapidly.

Sara spoke for both of them as she signed back. "What's going on, Julia?"

_The parish priest is with her. Administering last rites. Where is Gil?_

"I had hoped he would be here by now, I've tried to contact him…"

_But where is he? On the other side of the world? Don't you know where your husband is?_ _His mother is dying! _Julia signed choppily, looking angry.

Sara looked embarrassed but soldiered on. Having to both sign and speak slowed her down and calmed them both a little. _"I know, I know! We are…estranged. I've left message after message. We've talked…communicated for months…about his mother's health. I can only hope…"_

A Catholic priest in black vestments emerged from the hospital room.

"Ah, you must be Sara? Betty's daughter-in-law?"

"I am."

"Could you come in? I need help translating and she's distressed."

"Of course." Sara turned to Russell, and he waved her to the door.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be out here."

The two women joined the priest and the door swung closed behind them. D.B Russell sank into a chair along the wall and sighed deeply.

(End scene)

A/N This story is dedicated to Phyllis Frelich (1944-2014) who played Grissom's mother so perfectly in "The Two Mrs. Grissoms." PSP is a real condition and was her cause of death. Rest in peace, Phyllis. Julia Holden was of course played by Marlee Matlin.

To be continued.


	4. Chapter Four

Separation Anxiety

Chapter Four

(Hospital waiting room. There is more foot traffic than before and murmured conversations. D.B. sits alone, talking on his cell phone.)

"I know, Barbara, I'd like to say I'll be home soon. But Sara shouldn't be alone at a time like this." He paused, listening. "That's right." Another pause. "I've just had an idea, hon, can I call you right back? Love you too. All right. Bye."

D.B. ended the call, then stood up and stretched, his joints popping. He turned on the phone again and scrolled quickly, then connected a call.

"Hello? Greg? It's Russell, yes. I need you to do something for me, for Sara rather. Her mother-in-law is in the hospital. She's in a bad way…" There was a pause. "They don't think she's going to make it." Pause. "No, she's inside, with Betty Grissom." Another pause. "Can you come and stay with Sara? Good. Good. I'm at the Geropsychiatric Unit at Desert Palm, 4th floor. I'll see you soon. Thanks, Greg." He snapped the phone shut and sighed with relief.

A stern-looking woman in purple scrubs bustled into the patient's room, and Sara and Julia soon emerged, obviously having been told to leave. D.B. stood to greet them and gave Julia a little wave. Julia smiled tiredly and collapsed in a chair at the opposite wall. Sara approached him.

"How is she?"

"Hanging on. Clinging to life. She's asking for Gil. The nurse is going to clean her up and change the sheets, so she kicked us out." Sara smiled thinly. An orderly, his hands full of linens, glanced at them and went into the room as well.

"How are you holding up?"

"Holding up is about right." She looked around, as if dazed. "What time is it?"

"Just before 6. I called…" Sara's phone chirped and interrupted Russell.

"At last," Sara said with wonderment. She read the message. "At last. He's at…Miami Airport. Connecting flight leaves soon. Arrives at McCarran 8:12 our time, how can that be? Oh, time zone differences." Another message appeared, Sara read intently. "Says he's sorry. There was an electrical blackout in Venezuela…so that's where…and he turned his phone off to save the battery. When the power came on he turned it on to plug it in. 46 messages. Got suitcase. Threw everything in. Rush. Got to airport. Checked bag. Realized as conveyor belt took it his phone was in suitcase. Got his bag at Miami. Oh, Gilbert," Sara said, laughing a little hysterically. "Only you. Only you."

D.B. exchanged a smile of relief with her. Sara went across the room and signed to Julia, and they laughed a little too. Sara sat with her and Julia squeezed her hand.

Greg arrived hurriedly, a bit out of breath, and looked around the waiting room until he saw Sara.

"How did you…?" Sara looked surprised to see him.

Russell explained that he had called Greg, to keep Sara company, and to drive her wherever she needed to go.

"Oh." She seemed a little out of it.

"I need to go home, Sara," D.B. said gently, as if understanding that all this, plus the fatigue, was slowing her thought processes. "Greg will be here. But if you need anything…"

"I'm fine…" she said automatically, and then seemed to connect. "Thank you so much, Russell…"

He waved her off. "It's nothing, it's what friends do." He left.

Sara brought Greg up to speed on what was going on with Betty and now Grissom. Greg sat with the two women and Sara introduced him. He nodded and smiled. Sara translated, _Julia says she remembers you from that case at Gilbert College_…and then both women seemed to remember the lady who had brought them all together. They became solemn and sad.

(end scene)

To be continued.


	5. Separation Anxiety Chapter Five

Separation Anxiety

Chapter Five

(CSI Conference Room. D.B., Finn, Nick, and Morgan are seated around the round table, which takes up most of the room. There are crime files in front of them.)

Greg walked in, wearing the same clothes as before. The other CSIs looked up at him.

"Greg? I didn't expect to see you. How did it go?" D.B. asked.

Greg sat down heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

"After you left, Russell, Sara and Julia and I went in to see Mrs. Grissom. She was in rough shape." He shook his head and grimaced. "So small in that big bed. So sick. Sara and Julia sat on either side of the bed, I hung back. Sara smiled at her and signed to her that Grissom was on his way. She looked relieved. Everyone smiled a little. After a few moments she fell asleep. Then she awoke with a start, pulling on the bed rails and blinking and looking frightened. She signed like this…"

Greg held his index finger up and waved it from side to side. Then he saluted and dropped his arms as if rocking a baby to his chest.

"Sara would say whatever she signed, out loud. She said that meant 'Where is my son?' so she reassured Betty that Grissom was flying in to see her. Soon." This happened over and over. As if Betty couldn't hold in her mind what she was just told. It was like she was underwater and struggling to the surface. Sara waved to me and told her that I was going to the airport to get him, then she told me to do so. She didn't want to leave Betty alone for even a minute. I drove to the airport and met Grissom at the gate. He looked like hell. I told him his mother was still clinging to life when I left her." The group was silent, listening intently.

"He got his bag and we went back to the hospital. Grissom went inside and Sara stood up from her chair by the bed. They looked at each other a moment, then Gris hugged her and gave her a kiss. Then he just said 'Oh Mom' in such a heartbreaking way. He knelt down by the bed and put his head on her chest. Mrs. Grissom stroked his hair. He's let his hair grow out and it's all white and curly and he has a beard. He's lost some weight." Greg looked at Nick and Nick nodded, picturing him, and the changes five and half years would bring.

"Betty signed that she loved him and he signed it back. He put his head down and hugged her. Betty pulled at him so she could talk to him. She told him not to be sad, she was going to be with her husband again. That she had lived a good life and she was proud of him. Then she pointed at Sara. She put her fist to her chin and then clasped her hands together as if two people were holding hands. Sara said it meant 'your wife'. Mrs. Grissom looked very fierce then. She signed 'You promised. You took vows before God to love and cherish her.' Grissom nodded, as if chastened. 'Promise me.' She signed like this…"

Greg put his index finger to his lips, then flattened that hand and clapped it atop her left fist.

"At that point she got very tired and lay back and closed her eyes. We all looked at each other. Grissom noticed Julia for the first time and said hello. I went next door and got another chair and we all sat around the bed. Not saying a word. Mrs. Grissom started having trouble breathing. Grissom raised the bed and that seemed to help. She woke up and touched his face so lovingly, stroking his cheek. His eyes were wet. He signed, 'I love you Mom.'" Greg stammered to a halt, then gathered himself again.

"Betty struggled a little and then waved her hands and looked around the room until she saw Sara. She reached out and took Sara's hand and then placed it in Grissom's hand. And nodded at them both, looking at them, back and forth, very seriously, squeezing their hands hard. She coughed and let go and Sara gave her some water. She closed her eyes again. I looked over at Sara and tears were running down her face. Grissom looked bleak. Julia was crying too, silently. I was starting to lose it."

"She was out for a long time. A couple hours. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. We just watched her and glanced at each other. Finally she opened her eyes again. She looked at Sara and gestured for her to come closer. Sara hugged her and she kissed Sara on the cheek. She signed…"

Greg flattened his hand and touched it to his lips. Then he put his arms to his chest and moved them as if rocking a baby.

"'Daughter'. She beckoned to Grissom and she kissed him. He put his head down on her chest and buried his face in the blanket. I could hear him crying." Greg's voice cracked. "It was like watching your father cry. We always ragged him for not being emotional, called him 'robot' and 'tin man', well, I'll never say that again. Betty's breathing got more labored. Then she seemed to…well, it was like walking through a series of rooms and turning off the lights. She shut down, bit by bit. She made a rattling noise in her throat. And stopped breathing. Her life, her spirit, left her. All that was left was a body."

Morgan moved closer and hugged him around the shoulders. She sat back down and took Greg's hand and held it. Greg looked at her and nodded in gratitude.

After a pause he continued, sounding resigned. "We all went out then, and left Gris alone to say goodbye. Julia shook my hand and squeezed Sara's hand and made a sign like, 'I'll text you,' and she left. Sara went to the nurses' station and informed them that Betty Grissom had passed away. They told her they would take care of it and would send someone to take her to the morgue. And they took her contact information and said for her to call tomorrow. Sara went back and waited by the door. After a while Grissom came out and they hugged. Sara said, 'C'mon, let's go home.' I said I would go get the car and meet them out front."

"I drove them both to Sara's house and Sara asked me to wait. She went inside with Grissom for about ten minutes. Then she came out and got in my car. She said he was exhausted and needed to sleep. She asked me to drive her here so she could get her car. I asked her if I could just come get her tomorrow but she said she was afraid of disturbing him, that she was restless and didn't want to keep him up. We drove around for a while and she fell asleep in the passenger seat."

Greg looked up and the others turned around. Sara was in the doorway, looking rumpled and sleepy. One by one, Russell, Nick, Finn, Morgan got up and expressed their condolences. She thanked them quietly. Then she turned to Greg.

"You told that well, Greg."

"I didn't see you…When did you come in?"

"You were talking about going to the airport. The rest was just as you described. Just one little detail. Grissom is still wearing his ring, Greg."

(end scene)

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6

Separation Anxiety

Chapter Six

(CSI Conference Room, continuation)

"Grissom is still wearing his ring, Greg."

"What?" Finn responded.

"Then why…" Nick blurted, and then trailed off.

"I thought…" Morgan said, looking confused. Sara gazed at her, and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _Go on._ "I thought you guys were, you know, divorced."

"No. We're not," Sara answered, shaking her head. "He told me to move on. That I'm better off without him. Well, tell my heart that, because I'm not and I can't. "

Her friends nodded sympathetically.

D.B. added thoughtfully, "So if he's still wearing his wedding ring…you think he still considers himself married?"

Sara nodded, hope shining in her eyes.

"Not to play devil's advocate here," Nick broke in, "But Dr. Ray still wore his ring after he was divorced. Told me he kept it on because it reminded him of the happiest time of his life."

"Maybe he thinks the same, maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's got his own reasons. Grissom isn't an easy man to read."

Nick and Greg murmured in agreement.

"Maybe he just wants to fend off the females." Sara smirked. "My husband is a very handsome man," she added with a bit of pride, looking in particular at Finn. Julie Finlay grinned back at her. "Anyway I'm going to think of it as a good sign. So. What are you all working on?"

"Oh, no you don't," Russell told her. "You're going home. We've got it covered."

"Just let me help out," Sara asked plaintively. "Gil needs to sleep and I'm wide awake. I need the distraction."

D.B. and Sara stared at each other in a battle of wills.

"I promise I'll go home at daybreak. I'd like to be there when he wakes up. He doesn't keep vampire hours any more like us, and he was on a plane for 10 hours, then another for 4. Gil doesn't like to fly."

"Wait. Wait, what? Grissom doesn't like to fly? Is that why he never came back?" Greg looked shocked.

"He came back once a year. Four times total."

"How many times did you go visit him? Wherever in the world he happened to be?"

"Fifteen times. Then I ran out of vacation days."

"That's not fair," Greg muttered angrily. "Making you go through all that."

"So, you kind of…reached a stalemate? He refused to come home and you couldn't get away?" Finn asked.

"In a nutshell, yeah." Sara sighed and looked downcast. The group looked to be taking it all in.

"Seems kind of selfish. No wonder…" Finn said, and then seemed to think better of it. "Sorry, I don't mean to criticize. It's just…marriage is about compromise, isn't that what they always say?"

"It is." D.B. agreed emphatically. "It sure is. And if a husband is smart he lets his wife win most of the discussions. Now I'd _really_ like to have a little chat with Dr Grissom," he added grimly. Nick and Greg murmured in agreement.

"Don't gang up on him. Please. I'm at fault too. And remember he just lost his mother."

"I hear you, Sara. But sometime, somewhere, I have to say something, before he disappears again."

"I'm afraid it would drive him away. If you all attack, well, it would be easy for him to go into avoidance mode, and Grissom's got a long track record of that. I've been selfish too. I'm not a saint, and I made some bad decisions. But the best decision I ever made was to marry Gil Grissom, and I'm not going down without a fight."

The men muttered under their breaths.

"All right," Russell said grudgingly. "At least let me see what I can do about your vacation days. Did you get credit for your first seven years here?"

"Well, um, no. Your father," she said, looking at Morgan, "was not always the most sympathetic of Lab Directors. When I walked off the job he made sure those were cancelled—after all nobody expected me to return. I left the lab very shorthanded by leaving without giving notice. He tacked on three weeks when I signed a contract in 2012, though. From 2010 to 2012 I was considered part-time, so I didn't accumulate as many."

"I'll see what I can do. If you don't mind me asking, was money a factor too?" Russell asked gently.

Sara exhaled forcefully. "Isn't money always a factor? It's expensive to travel so far. Gil is making a pittance. I needed to make a living and keep a home base for us. I wanted to come back to work, but more urgently I needed—need- to make money."

"Ah. I can see another possibly thorny issue here. Speaking as the old guy in the group, could Grissom maybe feel uncomfortable that you are supporting him financially?"

"Maybe."

Russell's phone rang. He answered it reluctantly. "Russell. Right. Sorry for the wait. There's been a…loss in the family you might say. No, not…Dr Grissom's mother passed away. Yeah. That's right. I'll send someone shortly." He hung up. "Duty calls. So. Sara, if you really want to help out, I think we can find some busy work for you. Jules?"

Finn shot him a glare that said _Don't call me Jules, _but decided to let it go this time. "Morgan and I are working on a case. It's probably natural causes..."

"…but we need to check it out anyway. I'll come with," Sara offered.

"No, we got that covered. Can you look at background for the family? Phone records, criminal and medical history, neighbor complaints, financials?"

"Can do."

"You're going home at sunrise, no matter what. I'm going to beep you." Russell said sternly.

"Yes boss." They smirked at each other. And so the group dispersed to their tasks.

(end scene)

To be continued.


	7. Separation Anxiety Chapter Seven

**Separation Anxiety**

**Chapter Seven**

(Exterior, night, shabby row homes in a poor neighborhood. Coroner's van and police vehicles are parked along the street.)

Finn strode up the sidewalk swinging her kit, Morgan trailing behind. Captain Brass met them at the front porch with his notebook in hand.

"Sorry for the wait, Captain. What's going on here?" Finn asked.

"This is one sad case. The family has five kids and four of them are disabled. One deaf, one on life support, two with severe developmental disorders. One little girl that's healthy. There's a nine year old boy upstairs lying dead in his bed. That's the mother over there talking to the neighbors. Denise Tucco. The father has been taken into custody."

"Do we think he killed the boy?"

"Not exactly. Jamie Tucco claims he found his son Jamie Jr, dead, and…well, he didn't tell anyone. Not even the mother. For 4 days. "

"What! Four DAYS? I can smell the decomp from here," Finn exclaimed.

"She thought it was some dead mice in the ceiling. The father bought a lot of mothballs, as if that would cover up the stench."

Morgan made a disgusted noise. "Didn't she ever check on him?"

"Apparently the father takes care of two of them upstairs, and the mom takes care of the three downstairs. Junior didn't go to school or eat with the family as he had 'behavioral issues'. Something called Fragile X Syndrome."

"When did she last see the boy?"

"Says it's been a few years."

"A few YEARS?"

"Why didn't the father tell her?" "Tell her the kid died?" Finn and Morgan said in rapid succession.

"That's the question, right? I intend to ask him that in interrogation. David's upstairs. Maybe he knows more."

"Thanks, Brass."

The CSIs cautiously edged into the dimly lit house. The furniture was shabby but fairly clean. The narrow carpeted stairs creaked as they made their way up two dim flights of stairs, the stabbing lightbeams of flashlights preceding them. The women's faces contorted as they got closer to the source of the vile, sickly-sweet odor of death. They moved along the narrow hallway to the last bedroom.

An open door to their right revealed what looked like a miniature hospital room, with a regulation bed, IVs, monitoring machines, medication, needles, bedpan, but with it unoccupied it seemed particularly creepy. The two CSIs continued on after giving it a look over. In Junior's bedroom, David Phillips stood near the decomposing body taking notes and waving away a multitude of buzzing flies. They greeted each other.

"Do we think suspicious circs, David?"

"At this point, all I can say is there is no sign of trauma or obvious cause of death."

"Clearly neglect, though. I mean, look at this room." Finn swung her flashlight across the filthy bed and floor. "I don't even need to ALS to determine that's urine and feces on the bed, the sheets and the floor. I can smell it. There's even smears on the walls."

Morgan examined the door. "Door locks from the outside and it's worn, so the boy was apparently locked in here. I don't see any food or water. No bottles, no empty plates, no clean clothes. Smells like an Port-a-potty."

"The boy died four days ago, that I can confirm. Lividity is fixed, so he died in bed. We'll know more…"

"In autopsy," Morgan finished for him, smiling.

(Cut to)

(Interrogation Room, LVPD)

A grim-looking broad shouldered 45 year old white man sat one side of the table. His hair was cut very short. Mr Tucco wore an orange prison jumpsuit and his muscles filled it out. Brass burst through the door, clearly agitated. Officer Mitchell followed coolly and calmly, and took up position next to the door to watch the suspect.

"Jamie Tucco, I'm not going to waste my time. For now I'm going to charge you with endangering the welfare of children, concealing the death of a child, and abuse of a corpse. Depending on a tox screen and other tests and the autopsy, your charges could be upgraded to homicide."

Tucco said nothing, staring at the table before him.

"Just a few questions before I throw your sorry ass in jail. What were you thinking? Why is there a dead, decomposing body in your house? Why didn't you tell anyone your son died? Why was he locked in there, without food, without water, without access to a toilet, lying in his own filth?"

"All I want to say is my wife had nothing to do with this. It's all on me. She's innocent. And then I want a lawyer."

"Oh, my, my, how noble," Brass snarled. "What a hero, to stand up for your poor wife. Who stood up for Jamie Junior?"

"I didn't want…"

"You didn't want what?"

"I didn't want the family to be separated."

"Oh good God." Brass collapsed in a chair and rubbed his face. "If that's what you think 'family' is, what being a father, a husband means—you are one stupid son of a bitch. At least your children—the living ones—have just gotten their golden tickets out of hell. You'll never see any of them again. You might see poor wifey at arraignment, but we haven't decided if we're going to charge her too."

"I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah, she's innocent as a lamb. Get this dumb fuck out of here." Brass waved Officer Mitchell over. Mitchell rolled his eyes at the police captain and swung a pair of handcuffs into view. Brass stormed out of the room.

(End Scene)


	8. Chapter 8

**Separation Anxiety**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

(Interior, Morgue.)

Dr Robbins stood over the body of the boy, now cleaned and washed and naked beneath a sheet. Finn and Morgan stood expectantly on the other side of the autopsy table.

Doc Robbins explained, "Fragile X is a genetic condition on the autism spectrum that can cause intellectual, behavioral and learning challenges, in addition to a variety of physical deformities. To be politically incorrect, Junior had mental retardation. It doesn't kill you. So that's not our COD."

"I can tell you his weight was phenomenally low, so malnutrition is involved. To be thorough, I need to study how the underlying medical condition might have interacted with malnutrition and contributed to the child's death. I'm not putting a rush on this report. We need to have a solid case for trial," Doc Robbins said firmly.

"First impression? He looks like a Third World famine victim." The good doctor pointed out his protruding ribs, sunken gaunt face and skeletal arms.

"The mother said he wasn't allowed downstairs or to eat dinner with them because he threw food, made himself gag and throw up, and constantly acted out. She sent a plate up every meal, usually mac and cheese," Finn told them.

"I guess if he didn't like mac and cheese he was out of luck," Morgan commented. Finn nodded.

"She also said he refused to wear a diaper and smeared feces all over his room. She was afraid contact between the dirty boy and the bedridden girl would get her sick, so he wasn't allowed to come out of his room."

"Poor kid. Not much of a life."

They all shook their heads, gazing somberly at the dead boy. They were quite possibly the only people to ever care about him, in his short sad life.

(End Scene)

(Cut To)

(Interior, CSI Computer Lab)

Sara sat at a computer monitor, tapping keys and moving the mouse. Nick walked along the hallway behind her. When he glanced into the room, he appeared to make a decision and joined her.

"Hey Sara."

"Hi." Sara gave him a small smile.

"Making any progress on the neglect case?"

"Some. Surprisingly neither parent has a record. Brass said the neighbors were afraid of Jamie Tucco Sr. and that he yelled at the other son, and looked 'scary', but no one ever made a formal complaint. They only ever saw him, the older boy, and the one daughter that was born healthy, outside. They had no idea there were other children in the house. The family scraped by on government assistance. Get this, there was a woman from Social Services visiting while the boy was dead upstairs."

"No way."

"Yeah, I know. She was downstairs with the mother for over an hour. She should face some consequences for negligence too."

"I agree. And if there is something so screwed up genetically between the parents, why did they keep having children that were born disabled?"

"Who knows why anyone has children, when they are so clearly unable to care for them."

The two experienced CSIs shared a contemplative moment, reminded of earlier child abuse and neglect cases.

"What are you and Greg working on?" Sara asked.

"A family driving on the highway had a rock crash through their windshield. Someone threw it from an overpass."

"Injuries?"

"Direct hit on the woman in the passenger seat, the mother of the driver. Severe facial injuries and fractured skull. The rock pretty much took her face off and exposed the brain. She's alive, but in critical condition."

Nick and Sara exchanged a pained look and Sara shook her head in disgust.

"Five pound rock dropped 40 feet onto a car travelling 65 miles per hour…"

"Would be like a bomb going off inside."

"Any leads?"

"Yes, surprisingly, there were witnesses who knew the culprits. Three teenage boys. Greg said Brass is getting a warrant for their arrest. The only evidence is the rock, and we have that."

As if summoned, Greg poked his head in. "Hey Nick. Hi Sara." They returned his greeting.

"Brass said he'll be making arrests soon. He'll let us know when they are in lockup."

"So we might as well head home then."

"Yup." Nick left and Greg lingered behind.

"You doing okay, Sara?"

"It's been a rough night but I'll be okay after a good sleep."

"Me too. I'm glad I could be there for you."

"You're a good friend, Greg."

"You too. You know, I don't think…I've ever heard you reveal so much about your personal life before."

Sara gave him a wan smile. "I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. My counselor is encouraging me to open up more, as keeping everything to myself isn't working. "

"That makes sense."

"And you felt the emotions in that room. It's not every day you watch a member of the family die. It brings up a lot of soul searching."

"Yeah."

"'If your actions don't bring results, don't repeat them, try another way,' my counselor tells me often. After all if I'd talked to you and Nick and Russell about how things with Gil were going sour, we might have been able to head off that tragedy with Wynard, and with our team looking out for trouble, maybe corralled Basderic sooner too."

"It's possible, but we can't know what _might _have happened."

"True."

"Anyway, I just wanted to say I like the new openness and if you ever need to talk some more…"

"I know. Thanks Greg. Have a good sleep."

"You too, Sara."

(End Scene)


	9. Separation Anxiety Chapter Nine

Separation Anxiety

Chapter 9

(Interior Trace Lab, CSI Building.)

Hodges worked on filling a frame of little test tubes with liquid, but he seemed distracted. He kept looking up through the glass windows surrounding his lab. At last he saw the person he sought. Sara Sidle strode confidently down the hallway, looking more rested, and wearing different clean clothes.

Hodges dashed out his door and blocked her. Sara looked annoyed.

"Hello, Sara, you're looking well," he began nervously.

"What do you need, Hodges?"

"Oh, ah, not so much what _I _need. I understand Dr Grissom is back in town?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes. For his mother's funeral. And for an indeterminate period after, to settle her affairs."

"Ha, urm, affairs, there's a segue…I wanted to…I have a confession to make…"

"Spit it out, Hodges, I'm busy."

"I've been in contact with Gil over the past few years. I uh, I may have…I may have said something to Gil that I need to tell you before I see him."

Sara became deathly quiet and glared at him with a look that could blister paint. "What. Do. You. Mean."

"I told him you were unhappy…"

Sara grabbed him by his prominent ear and dragged him, squawking, with his head to the side, down the hallway to a walled layout room and shoved him inside. Hodges staggered and then stood upright. Sara slammed the door and turned to him, hands on her hips and Sidle Death Glare at full wattage. Hodges quailed.

"As you know I'm rather observant," Hodges began defensively with an air of self-importance, smoothing his wrinkled lab coat. Sara rolled her eyes. "I observed that in the past year or more you seemed lonely…distant…and you started to spend more and more time at the lab instead of at home. And spending time with different…individuals. I overheard some conversations that were apparently with your husband…"

"In other words you eavesdropped on private conversations."

"Ah, well, yes, you might say. Anyway the gist was that your interactions were brusque. Tense. At times you argued. I was…concerned."

Sara folded her arms across her chest. "I'm still missing how this is any of your business, but go on. Tell me EVERYTHING."

"Gil and I are friends," Hodges whined. "And I felt he needed a man's perspective on what was a deteriorating situation." Sara rolled her eyes. "He needed to know what his wife was up to."

"I wasn't UP TO anything, David, except doing my job," Sara snapped.

"Not even when that NTSB agent was hanging around, flirting?"

"Doug and I are old friends. What we had was ancient history. It was good to see him. But I had no intention of dating him or _cheating on my husband! I have never cheated on Gil!"_ Her voice rose to a shout.

Hodges made a pacifying gesture. "I realize that now. I was…misled…and worried that you two seemed…close. Too close. With your husband gone for so long…"

"What, I would automatically hop into bed with random men? Satisfy my sexual urges with another partner? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Hodges gaped and cleared his throat, possibly realizing the magnitude of his error at last.

"You know what? I don't want to hear any more. Come by the house this weekend and you can explain EVERYTHING to Grissom. Everyone is coming over."

"I…yes, ma'am." He scurried away.

(End Scene)

(Interior of a pub, dimly lit, with a row of red leather booths and a polished wooden bar with a few patrons sitting at it. There's a big mirror behind the bottles and a bartender in a white apron.)

Greg and Nick sat at one of the booths. Their suit jackets were flung to the side and their ties were loosened. Nick rolled up the sleeves of his gray dress shirt. They spoke in low voices.

"I called him an asshole," Greg said wonderingly. Nick's eyes jerked to his face. "I know! I can remember when I could barely talk to him. I would babble more like, in total _awe _of the guy…but lately, the way he's treated Sara? There's no other word for it. Besides he's not my boss anymore. Hasn't been for 2 supervisors now. So I don't have to worry about my job if I speak my mind."

"Yeah," Nick said, sounding tired. "You're right. Grissom has been an asshole. And I had a serious case of hero worship too. Not like Sara, but…I always thought of him as the most decent—the one with the most integrity—of any man I knew. This is not the same guy. I never expected Grissom to be the one who never showed up when he was needed. Who didn't show at that birthday dinner, which would have prevented that whole sorry chain of events? Taylor Wynard would still be alive and Sara wouldn't have been accused of his murder. This is the guy who didn't show up when his wife was stalked, humiliated, when her personal space was violated, her faith in us shaken, after she had to be_ processed_ like a criminal. Or afterward, when I bet she could have used a shoulder to cry on." Nick shook his head.

"Yeah, and he was there for Warrick—when _he was the one accused of murder!" _Greg continued. "Gris moved heaven and earth to prove his innocence. If Sara had been convicted of murder? If Basderic had real bullets? And he shot Sara? Would Gris even bother to come to her damn funeral?"

"I don't know, man. And that's not right. Let me get the next round."

"No argument here, bro."

Nick wandered off to the bar. Greg took a sip of his beer but winced and set it down when he realized it was warm and flat. Nick returned with two frosty mugs and set one before his friend.

"I sure expected him to turn up when Sara held that bomb at the hospital in her arms for 20 long minutes," Greg picked up the venting session. "Jesus, her hands were still shaking hours later. "

Nick nodded in agreement. "I mean, I didn't expect him to come running _every_ time one of us was in a bad situation. Like when that car's brakes failed and I saw my life flash before my eyes," Nick chuckled ruefully. "And he has no clue who Morgan or Finn or Russell are, so when their helicopter crashes or they get kidnapped or their granddaughter is taken…that would seem like the evening news, you know? There's an earthquake in China or a tornado in Kansas—you don't go help every time or burst into tears. But this is _SARA_."

"Sara deserves better than to be dumped over the phone," Greg added. "And to get one lousy text on her birthday. After all the years she waited for him, ached for him, waited for Grissom to see what was right in front of him, a beautiful brilliant woman who just wanted to love him."

"Sounds like you still have a little crush on her, G."

Greg blew out a breath. "I'm with Morgan, and I'm happy. But Sara deserves…she deserves to be deliriously happy. To be loved back. Cherished."

"Yeah. It's Sara. And she's worth more than the rest of us put together. Here's to Sara."

"To Sara!" They clinked glasses.

Just then the subject of their toast walked in. She was dressed in a severely cut black dress with a short dark jacket and black stockings and dress shoes. Sara's hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she looked pale and tired. Greg and Nick stood and welcomed her to sit between them at the round leather booth. Nick touched her arm gently and murmured something sympathetic, and she gave him a grateful glance and a nod.

"What can I get you Sara?" Greg asked, still standing.

"What are you having…oh, not a beer. Something stronger. A shot of brandy maybe."

"Coming up." Greg went back to the bar.

There was a tense silence.

"I, uh, thought it was a nice service," Nick finally said.

Sara nodded. "Long, though. I've forgotten how long a full Catholic mass can be. Betty sure had a lot of friends. My hands are tired from signing!" Nick chuckled.

Greg returned. He slid in beside her and put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Sara tossed back half of the shot of brandy, wincing and blowing out a breath.

"I should be mad at you, you know," she gave him a glare. "I heard part of what you said to Grissom." Greg shrugged and looked abashed. "I appreciate you trying to stick up for me…but there is a time and a place…and a funeral isn't the right place to light into a guy who just lost his mother."

"Sorry, Sara." He suddenly found the surface of the table fascinating and traced a path with a fingertip through the water drops. Sara removed the hair clip and shook her hair down around her face with a sigh of relief.

"Grissom is going to be around for a while. His mother's estate is a bit of a mess. He's the sole heir of course, but she didn't have a will. And she wanted to be buried with Gil's father in California. So that means more planning."

"I uh, I'm glad to see you are wearing your wedding ring again," Greg said hopefully, wishing to change the subject. He was still a little worked up at venting at Grissom. And embarrassed, as she was correct.

Sara held her left hand out and looked at it. "I wanted the day to be about Betty Grissom and giving her a dignified farewell. And not get the looks or questions as to why Gil's wearing his ring and I'm not. Just as I took it off in the lab to stop the questions, I put it on to stop the questions from the other mourners. I'll always be Betty's daughter-in-law. And I don't intend to take it off again. I'm keeping it on because I'm still married. And because he'll always be the one. It's a symbol of support. And hope."

"Then here's to support," Nick raised his glass.

They all clinked their glasses. "To hope. To hope of future happiness," Sara said seriously.

(End Scene)


	10. Separation Anxiety Chapter Ten

Separation Anxiety

Chapter 10

(Interior, Morgue)

David Phillips, Assistant Coroner, was wiping down and sterilizing the morgue's flat surfaces and drawers as Doctor Albert Robbins caught up on his case reports on a computer. David was in a chatty mood, and though he wasn't a gossip by any means, Doc Robbins was interested in how his old friend Gil Grissom was doing.

"Sorry you missed the get-together at Sara's house. There were some interesting conversations between Grissom and the guys. Nick started out polite, telling him about Little Stevie, the lost tarantula, which finally turned up. And he told Grissom he was starting to master the forensic entomology, like he was taught, and started bragging a little."

"Grissom turned the conversation to that case with the carrion beetles that cleaned an entire skeleton in hours, eating themselves to death. Apparently Catherine and Grissom were in touch when she was working her last case. Nick described how the genetically altered beetles behaved, but was stunned when Grissom asked if he kept any alive, and if he had preserved samples, or dissected and took notes…Nick got all flustered and had to confess that he had not, the beetles had all been destroyed and disposed of. Grissom gave him that look that makes you feel like the bad student that has disappointed the professor. Nick looked like a scolded puppy." The older man chuckled at David.

"So then Grissom started talking about a new research project he's going to head up. Nick was ticked off so he ignored that and started talking about Sara's ordeals, Ronald Basderic, and what's she's been through in his long absence. Grissom just listened, not saying anything, until he stuttered to a halt.

Greg jumped in then, and described how hurt Sara was by the breakup. How happy she had been when she first came back from Paris to be a CSI, how she glowed when she talked about Grissom, but as time passed without any mention of his return, that glow dimmed again. Greg said that Sara has always loved him, always will, despite her hurt and how badly she has been treated. He said Sara made a home for him and supported everything he did. He said Sara would have left this life to be with him again but was never invited." Robbins sighed. David put his cleaning supplies aside and continued.

"Greg said he knew a little of Grissom's faulty reasoning, that if Sara was unhappy with their arrangement, she was better off without him. But Sara is a grown woman and has the right to decide what makes her happy without that choice being taken away from her. He brought up Grissom's mother, and her deathbed wish for them to reconcile, that he had witnessed." Doc Robbins gave up all pretense of working and was listening intently.

"Grissom just stood there, listening. Finally Greg said, 'What does the evidence tell you, Grissom?' And Grissom's eyes widened. Greg ticked off the reasons. 'One. Sara loves you and wants to be married to you, for better or worse. Two. Your mother. Three. Me and Nick and everyone you worked with, everyone who is Sara's friend, wants to see Sara happy. Four. Whatever disgusting lies Basderic or Hodges or anyone told you, Sara never cheated on you and never would. Who do you believe, your wife, your great love, who has never lied to you, or some psychopath stalker you never met? Sounds to me like the only one who thinks Sara is better off alone is you, Grissom, and your reasoning is wrong, and all the evidence is pointing in the other direction.' There was a silence then, and we all seemed to be holding our breath to hear what Grissom would say. 'You've given me a lot to think about.' That was it."

Dr. Robbins nodded thoughtfully. "Guess I'm not the only one who suspected his wife of having an affair. And if I was able to reconcile with Judy after how badly I hurt her, maybe I can give Grissom some advice. I'll ask them to dinner," Robbins decided out loud.

(End Scene)

(Cut To)

(Interior, Denali, night. Finn is driving and Sara is in the passenger seat.)

"So it's been 3 weeks, how are things?" Finn asked.

"Things are…" Sara paused, thinking. "Better. We're talking. We're working through stuff."

"That's great!" Finn said enthusiastically. "It's good to see you smile again. Do you really think you can patch things up?"

"' Things that break, be they bones, hearts, promises—can be put back together but will never really be whole,'" Sara quoted. "It's an old proverb. I can't—we can't get back to where we were before, to how solid and strong our relationship was. This was a serious break. Gil's broken my heart before but this time…I was so afraid I'd never see him again… " her face creased in pain. "If I let my pride get in the way and refuse to forgive him, again, I will end up bitter and alone. Been there. Hated it. Or I can try to forgive him, and realize our miscommunication and avoidance tactics—on both sides—broke both our hearts. I can tell him I'm sorry as well. And we can forgive each other and move forward."

"You sound mature about the whole thing. So. How are the…sleeping arrangements?" Finn asked slyly.

Sara giggled. "Cozy. Good. Amazing, in fact." They grinned at each other. "He's been very…apologetic. And loving. I started out comforting him. Before I knew it we were back—and it's intense—and really really good. That's always been a strong part of our relationship."

"I'm happy for you, Sara. Really! But. Is he leaving again? Are you going with him? Or is he…Have you asked him to stay?"

"We're…yes. We've come up with a plan. I think it may just work out."

(End Scene)


	11. Separation Anxiety Last Chapter

SEPARATION ANXIETY

LAST CHAPTER

(Interior, Sheriff's Office, LVPD. Conrad Ecklie is seated behind a huge mahogany desk, his nose in a file.)

_The intercom buzzed._ "Sheriff, CSI Sidle is here?"

"Oh, good, send her right in."

Sara entered the well furnished room and immediately walked over to Ecklie. She seemed more upbeat than earlier and smiled genuinely. He stood up and they shook hands politely.

"Have a seat."

"Thank you." Sara sat primly at the edge of the padded chair.

"My condolences to Dr Grissom."

"I'll pass them along, thank you."

"I would have attended the funeral but…," he gestured to the piles of papers strewn across his desk.

"We both understand." She took a breath and then hesitated, then spoke. "Thank you for meeting with me today."

"No need to be formal, Sara, we've known each other a long time," Ecklie said genially.

She relaxed a little. "That we have. I, uh, _we _have some news. A proposal, rather." She stumbled over her words, seeming to get more excited as time passed. "Dr. Grissom has been asked to perform a research study and he's very keen on it. He'll make a formal proposal but first wanted me to see how receptive you would be to having him utilize the lab resources…" Ecklie frowned, confused. She hurried on. "Not anything that would tie up evidence processing…" she stopped, frustrated. "Maybe I should start at the beginning."

"Always a good idea," Ecklie said supportively and Sara smiled a little.

"When Gil's mother became gravely ill, he was in Venezuela, meeting with the foremost authority on bees. Dr Charles Michener wrote the definitive textbook on bees and is coordinating with entomologists and beekeepers all over the world to research Colony Collapse Disorder. As you probably know it is a worldwide crisis and the bee populations are declining precipitously. An entomologist of Grissom's stature is badly needed in order to head off disaster. The more research on the virus that is killing them the better, and we need to see if we can produce a vaccine. The more research on how many factors might be contributing to their decline, the better. Whether cross-breeding is an answer. There is good research being done in the tropics in South America and Southeast Asia, as well as in temperate ecosystems such as in Canada and Europe. But no one has done a full research study in the desert yet. We need to determine if a healthy population can be sustained in desert regions, which are less exposed to pesticides and herbicides, and if other factors such as cell phone transmissions are interfering with the bees' ability to navigate."

"Cell phones?"

"Yes, that's one theory. It's thought the electromagnetic fields interfere with the bee's sense of direction. A big desert such as in Nevada has patches without cell phone towers or reception, so he could get a control population."

"And there is plenty of publically owned desert land to use for experiments."

"Exactly."

"So how does the lab come in?" Ecklie prodded, sensing that Sara could continue indefinitely in her describing the project.

"Oh, right. Well, there's no money in this research, at least until any grant proposals are approved. In the meantime, Grissom will have to buy all the equipment, everything from bee frames to microscopes and virology study setups…"

"And we have plenty of unused equipment and resources, much of it gathering dust in storage," Ecklie finished thoughtfully.

"Yes." Sara looked hopeful.

There was a pause as he thought hard. Conrad Ecklie regarded Sara, her bright eyes and hopeful expression. He thought about all they had been through, the traumas Sara had endured, the difficult cases she worked and solved, and decided, at last, to put his pettiness and jealous rivalry with her husband aside for once and for good. "Hmm. I don't foresee a problem…"

Sara grinned at him.

"As long as, like you said, nothing would interfere with the operation of the crime lab or with processing evidence. Would he be working in the lab? Or consulting on cases at all?" Conrad added hopefully.

Her face fell. "No, Grissom was very clear on that. His days are a CSI are over. And you know how stubborn he can be."

They shared a knowing look. "I do. So it would just be an arrangement of loaning out our equipment…"

"He might utilize some equipment in the building…in a forgotten corner of a laboratory, say."

"I'm sure Hodges would be thrilled," Ecklie said dryly, and they shared a laugh.

Ecklie seemed lost in thought a moment, and then gestured expansively, feeling generous. "It would only seem fair, since Grissom requisitioned most of the best resources we have, that he can now use it to the benefit of science." Sara was beaming now. "It sounds like a very worthwhile project, Sara, and I will be happy to cooperate fully."

Sara leaped up happily and thanked him profusely. Ecklie reddened at the rare sensation of being the good guy, especially with Sidle.

"So, he'll be moving back home?"

"Yes!" Sara was bursting with happy energy. "We'll be together."

"That's wonderful," Ecklie said sincerely. "I'm glad—very glad- you both have another chance. I screwed up both my marriages badly. But the silver lining is Morgan."

"I'm happy you made up with your daughter," Sara told him.

"Me too. And while we are on the subject, I owe you an apology…those years long ago when Grissom was supervisor and you were first involved romantically, I acted very…childishly…and spitefully. Trying to break you up and torpedo both your careers. I'm sorry. Deeply sorry."

Sara stared at him, dumbfounded and touched. "Wow, uh, thank you Conrad. That means a lot," she said at last. "Thanks. I, uh, should go. And share the good news with Gil." She moved toward the door.

"Oh, one more thing," Ecklie said, and she turned back to face him. "DB brought up the oversight on my part regarding your vacation time. You deserve all that accrued vacation time and back pay from before you left, Sara. You came back when you were needed and have done an outstanding job ever since, for the past…what's it been, three…?"

"Four years. Thanks."

"So, effective immediately you have 9 weeks additional paid leave, which will roll over next year if you don't use it. I think you and Grissom should take some of it. Soon. Get away and be together."

"I'd like nothing better." Sara's smile was dazzling. "Thank you again." They shook hands warmly.

Sara went through the heavy door, closing it behind her. Ecklie sat back down and smiled, bemused.

(End Scene)

(Cut To)

(Interior, Locker Room, CSI Lab)

Sara had her locker open and was taking items out, looking them over, and stuffing some in a knapsack on the bench, while putting other stuff back in the locker. She was dressed to leave the lab, in khaki trousers, a pale yellow button down shirt and a well fitted embroidered jacket.

Greg and Nick and then Finn and DB came in and stood back watching until she noticed their scrutiny and looked around, smiling.

"Word is you are leaving us for a while, Sara," Nick said cheerfully.

"Yeah. I'm taking a vacation. We've agreed to take a month off, every winter, when the bees are dormant. And go somewhere, alone, together, without work. Have fun. Get to know each other again. Do some of the things we dreamed of for years."

"That's wonderful, Sara. I'm so happy for you both," DB said warmly. There was a murmur of agreement and an atmosphere of genuine affection for Sara. She was glowing.

I'm _going _on VACATION!" Sara suddenly burst out with happiness. She pumped her fist in the air. "I'm going on vacation with MY HUSBAND!"

Sara grinned her biggest, happiest, most brilliant smile. Her smile was instantly reflected in the smiling faces of her friends.

(END SCENE)

Fade to Black

Roll Credits

THE END

Author's Notes: Wow, it is tricky to write happy GSR resolution without Grissom present or talking, but it can be done. And it is doubly difficult to write the catalyst for Grissom's return, the death of his mother, without her in it either. The other entries to the "Fix GSR" challenge are proof that GSR can be fixed without Billy Petersen returning. I'm deeply impressed with all of these stories. Go check them out. You'll find links on the June-Sept 2014 "Fix GSR" FF Challenge page on CSIFO (or just check the Home Page). A link to the poll to vote for your favorite story is there as well. Voting by CSIFO Members begins September 29th and will close at midnight October 3rd.

There were some interesting little true fact portions of this story; now that it is complete I can share. I tried to use actual places and events, as I am a firm believer that truth is stranger than fiction. The street names and layouts are correct, though I don't know if there is a Citibank on the corner, and the bank robbery was fiction. However, the gruesome crimes of the autistic dead boy left to rot in a bedroom and the rock through the car windshield are all too true, tragically so, and happened just recently in my area. I changed the names a little but that's all.

I needed a distant city that had just had a major power outage so that Grissom would be unreachable. That place was Caracas, Venezuela. After a bit more research I learned that in the same city resides the author of the definitive work on honeybees, Curator Emeritus Charles D. Michener. His book is called "Bees of the World." Serendipity. I needed a purely scientific research project, one worthy of a world class entomologist, that would bring Grissom back to Vegas permanently, and this fit. I can see Sara working in partnership with Grissom again, as a brilliant scientist herself.

Dr Michener would be perfect for the Bugman to meet with, and God knows the honeybee can use a Grissom to the rescue right now. All of that was true, including the research into cell phone interference throwing off bee navigation, so that they either can't find their food source or can't find their way back to the hive. If you have a garden, plant some food for the honeybee and don't spray any poisons, they sure can use all the help they can get.

Until next time, ILoveJorja.

And I love reviews too!


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